Family Portrait
by Schwimmschik
Summary: An inside look at the Royal Family of the Fire Nation from one of their own. Zuko angst and implied abuse warning! Note: This was written before Season Three, and from looking at the date, probably Season Two as well. One-Shot


Shouts once again broke the stillness of the camp. It was becoming a common occurrence these days, ever since the exiled Prince of the Fire Nation had joined their little group. This time, the fight was about something that hit close to home in the two water benders. Zuko had made a remark about why did Katara's and Sokka's parents allow them to go travel around the world with only a 12-year old boy as company. Katara had shouted something to the extent about what a heartless firebender would know about family, and then stormed off to the other side of their little camp. Zuko's ferocious temper had flared, but he had restrained himself from lighting anything on fire and had instead stormed off into the surrounding woods, dropping his pack as he did.

_ Who does she think she is! _Zuko fumed, a lazy trail of smoke from his clenched fists betraying his inner turmoil. When he reached a clearing he stopped and breathed slowly, once twice, then sat at the foot of the majestic tree that shaded the clearing. He blew out a cloud of smoke and sighed. Glancing around to make sure he had not been followed, Zuko pulled a folded picture out of his belt. The others of the group would have been surprised to see what the stoic prince considered his most precious possession.

The artistry of the picture was perfect, every detail worked out with utmost care. True, it was a mere copy of the original, which would have spanned nearly 10 feet tall, but it was still beautiful in its own way. It was the picture that everyone in the Fire Nation knew. It was the royal family, painted just before the Crown Prince Iroh had gone to capture Ba Sing Sei. Sure it was a bit outdated, but what Zuko liked about it was the way at first glance everything looked perfect; the epitome of happy family.

There was the late Fire Lord Azulon, seated in a magnificent throne. Beside him sat his sons, Ozai towering on the left, the Heir apparent Iroh on the right. It was easy to see the resemblance between the two brothers. It appeared as though they were together in unity, supporting their aging father together. At Iroh's feet sat his son, the Prince Lu Ten, already a tall 18 year old. At Ozai's side sat his wife Ursa, serene and beautiful. At their feet sat their children. Strait backed and cross-legged in perfect symmetry, the two looked like twins. In truth, Azula was only a year younger than her 7-year old brother. All in all, the picture depicted the Royal Family, happy, proud, and powerful.

But that was only what outsiders saw. Zuko knew what really went on in the Royal Family.

The Fire lord Azulon Zuko remembered was not the powerful general who brought the other lands to their knees. Even in the small portrait, Zuko could see the lines creasing his grandfather's face. He could imagine the hands shaking so much that the once mighty firebender was unable to control even the smallest of candle flames. The old man had died two years later, killed in his sleep.

Next was the mighty Iroh, Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, General of the Fire Army, Dragon of the West; a mere 2 years later after a 600 day siege in which the General performed the impossible, broke the outer wall of Ba Sing Sei, Iroh returned, defeated.

In the picture, Zuko could already see the faint lines at the corner of his uncle's eyes. The General was feeling the strain of commanding the bloody war. The strain that would reduce the once proud man to a shadow of his former glory.

The son that sat at Iroh's feet in the picture was a proud young man in the prime of his life. At 18, Lu Ten was to follow his father out to battle for the first time, hopefully to gain honor and come home to be wed to a noble's daughter. Lu Ten, Zuko remembered, had a fiery spirit; he always wanted to have fun. Even though his mother had died in childbirth, Lu Ten had grown into a fine young man; the future of the Fire Nation.

Looking closely at the picture, Zuko could notice his cousin's smile was forced. Lu Ten's gentle nature did note fit well in Fire Lord Azulon's plans for his family. That was why his cousin was dead, cut off in the prime of his life.

On the other side of the old Fire Lord sat his second son, Ozai. Standing tall, muscles straining against the formal robes he wore, Ozai looked to be the perfect firebender.

But Zuko could see the lines of cruelty in the smirk that the picture Ozai wore. He could remember those cold golden eyes staring down at him as Ozai raised one hand and scarred his only son forever. Just by glancing at the portrait, one would never realize the depth of Ozai's wickedness. Zuko remembered well his father's cruelty.

Zuko's eyes traveled past his father and his glare softened. His mother, Ursa, had often been called the Rose of the Fire Nation, and for good reason. His mother was beautiful. Her porcelain skin, golden eyes, and slender body had lulled many who saw her into a false sense of security. But beneath the elegant robes his mother wore was a fighter. Ursa was the one who taught her son how to use the Dao broadswords. It was she who told her son of the days before the wars, when all the elements lived together in harmony.

But even her perfect image had dark depths that were not revealed to a simple observer. In the picture, a close observer could imagine how Ursa leaned ever so slightly away from her violent husband, and how her posture seemed stiff, unnatural. It was hard to be the wife of such an evil creature.

At his beloved mother's feet, Zuko gazed at his sister with an unreadable look. In this picture Azula portrayed the perfect child. A protégée, always got everything right, his father's favorite, Azula always knew how to act in any situation, how to answer any question perfectly. Outsiders would see her as the perfect daughter, pruned to be the perfect Fire Lady. Only upon closer examination could Zuko see the sadistic tilt to her smile, how even at the young age of 6, Azula had already begun filing her finger nails to razor points. She was already being molded into a female version of her brutal father.

Zuko paused, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled as his eyes drifted to the last person in the portrait. There sat the 7-year-old Zuko, long black hair pulled into a topknot, the traditional hairstyle. The little Zuko sat cross-legged at his father's feet, like Lu Ten at Iroh's feet. He looked exactly like his mother, something that had irked his father to no end. Here was a son that any father should have been proud of, and indeed, it appeared that way in the portrait to a casual observer. But Zuko had been there. Noticed the paleness of the child's skin, the heavy cloth of the robes. The high collar and long sleeves hid the results of the most recent "training" sessions with his father.

Zuko tore his thoughts from that dark path. Ozai had tried to mold his son and heir into an unfeeling war machine. He had failed. Zuko carefully refolded the precious picture and hid it again from the prying eyes of his companions.

Zuko returned to the camp, whishing it could have been so easy. So easy to fulfill his father's task and capture the Avatar. He whished the people portrait had been real people, not masks constructed to hide the truth.

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I hope people liked an inside look at the Royal family. I don't write much, but the story just grabbed hold of me and would not let me sleep until I wrote it. Hopefully I'll start writing more!

P.S-Reviews much appreciated!


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